


Almost Doesn't Count

by marcasite



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kissing, Not A Fix-It, Post-Kill The Moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcasite/pseuds/marcasite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The silence swells between them and Clara feels the echo of loss. The loss of everything that was easy and comfortable between them, it has all turned to ashes and lay scattered at their feet. She is helpless and lost, determined and strong at the same moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Doesn't Count

**Author's Note:**

> This is annnngssstt and not a fix-it fic. Let's just hope that some of this never really happens, k? Though there may be some kissing, just a bit.

_I’d like to say we gave it a try,_  
I’d like to blame it all on life,  
Maybe we just weren’t right,  
But that’s a lie…that’s a lie. 

_Sight_

 

It’s been months since she told him go away. Months where she watches the seasons change; spring into summer into a dreary fall. Sometimes she thinks she hears the sound of the Tardis and her heart catches but it always turns out to be nothing but her imagination. Courtney has stopped asking about the Doctor, has turned her energies into something more focused and less disruptive. 

Clara is at least grateful to the Doctor for that. 

By unspoken agreement, she and Danny never talk about the Doctor. She knows that Danny can feel the weight of her melancholy, a tangible compression that she carries with her. She should have understood that the Doctor may not come back, in her anger she had told him clear off and she should have remembered that he doesn’t do good-byes. That he would have taken her words that day as her good-byes, her way of leaving him.

She shudders at the thought that he may never come back. 

So the days drift into weeks that fall into months. And it’s a windy day in October, as she’s rushing through the park between her flat and the school, when she sees him again. There he is, standing in front of the Tardis watching her, the weight of his stare bearing down on her. Even as she acknowledges to herself that it wouldn’t have been either her flat or the school; that it would have to be somewhere between, she drinks in the sight of him. 

A small part of her didn’t ever expect to see him again and she isn’t sure what she is going to say to him, what she’s going to do. She’s not sure when they had turned into this cliché.

 

_Sound_

 

Her hesitation, as she approaches him, shows. “Hey.”

“Not still angry?” He tries to disarm her but his voice is too thick, her emotions too stretched. 

“ _Doctor_.” 

He shrugs and she feels the tension return; how quick, how easy. She moves to stand in front of him, arms crossed. “Been gone awhile.” It’s not a question.

He starts to scratch the back of his head, gaze drifting to a point over her shoulder. “Well, I was told to go away. A long way away, if I recall correctly. So I did. Went and got some stuff at _Junk_ , well, the Tardis needed some parts and I thought why not _Junk_ though last time we were there Donna specifically asked me-“

She interrupts, “I didn’t mean for you to leave forever.”

His eyes are cold, “What did you mean? You told me to leave, you were angry and told me to leave.” He hesitates, at a loss but continues on, “Clara, in that moment, I knew you would make the right choice. I know, Clara. I know.”

“But you could have stayed, at least stayed there with me. I’ve always believed in you. Always. Until I didn’t anymore.”

“And that’s where we are now.”

And suddenly, she remembers how very tired she was of listening to him. 

 

_Smell_

 

The silence swells between them and Clara feels the echo of loss. The loss of everything that was easy and comfortable between them, it has all turned to ashes and lay scattered at their feet. She is helpless and lost, determined and strong at the same moment. Taking in a deep breath, she lets the crisp air move through, the scent of leaves and fall fill her.

“Do you understand why I was so angry? Why it was this particular moment?” He’s not watching her, still looking over her shoulder. She wants to shake him, make him look at her even with eyes filled with frost. “Cause you have done some petty things in our time together, things I could have gotten upset over but haven’t. I need you to understand why it was this time.” 

“I have had a lot of time to think about it, Clara. I think I do.”

“But do you really?”

“I’m not going to apologize for believing in you, for knowing that you would do what you do best.”

Clara rubs her hands over her eyes, “It wasn’t just this time, Doctor. I think it was a culmination of everything. The no touching, the coldness; half the time I wasn’t sure you if you cared. Somewhere along the way, I became your moral compass and do you know how that makes me feel?”

She watches his face harden as he presses his lips together. “Do you think, after all this time, that I didn’t care?” 

“Does it matter anymore, the why? You’re here for a reason.” She feels her lower lip tremble and tells herself there is no way she is crying today. No way at all.

And the silence scares her because it screams the truth.

 

_Touch_

Because she wants to stretch this moment out longer, because she knows that this could be the very last; she takes a step forward. She tries not to flinch as he watches her warily.

“So will I see you soon?”

“Why?”

“I dunno? You just said that this wasn’t a good-bye, that you didn’t do good-byes. I assume that means I will see you again.” Her left hand twist at the rings on her right hand, watching the shadows on the Doctor’s face grow.

He closes his eyes for a second, “I just mean, I don’t know how to say good-bye.”

“So don’t. Say you’ll see me soon. Say you’ll see me later just don’t say you won’t see me again.” She knows his answer already, knows it with every single beat of her heart. She wants to tell him to stay, to take her with him, anything except leave her forever. 

He runs his hand over his face before he quickly returns it to his pocket. “I thought that this would hurt less than an actual good-bye, hurt less _for me_. That I could tell you that I will be back on next Wednesday and we’ll go off and that everything would be fine.”

She doesn’t say anything, can feel the burn of unshed tears, tears she swore she wouldn’t cry today. 

He sighs again, “I want nothing more than to travel with you on Wednesday and whatever other day I can steal you away for. But this is who I am now.” His hand waves in space between them, “And this is who you are. I think you’ve made your choice, haven’t you?”

She wants to tell him that she hasn’t, that he will always be who she turns to first but that would be a lie and they both know it. The tears fall now and she’s nodding her head. “Yeah, I just didn’t think it would be this hard.”

She closes some of the distance between them and steps up to place her hand on his face. She ignores his flinch, she’s determined. “Run, you clever boy...and remember me. And if you ever need me, for anything, _anything_ , please find me.”

The Doctor closes his eyes and nods against her hand.

 

_Taste_

She pulls closer, feels the Doctor try and pull himself back and away from her touch. She pushes forward, tightening her grip. “If this is it, let me kiss you good-bye.”

He pulls himself free and she decides then and there she’s had enough. There was a time when even the smallest of touches meant something to both of them and she’d be damned if she would continue to offer something he didn’t want. 

She turns to go. His hand reaches out and grazed her shoulder, then slide oh so-slowly down her arm. The soft material of her blouse clings to her skin as his fingers swept downward, over her bicep and forearm. His warm skin caresses her wrist for a moment before his fingers skimmed over her palm and twine with hers. A gentle pull has her turning fully to him.

He takes one step forward and closes the last gap between them. Clara scarcely has a moment to pull in a breath before his lips touches hers. A whisper of a kiss. So soft and warm and fleeting, she could have dreamed it. But then his mouth touches hers again and her eyelids flutters close. This was no dream.

The Doctor’s lips presses to hers for only a heartbeat before they simultaneously opened their mouths. His tongue slips past her teeth and sweeps over hers. His free hand cups her cheek as his body melds to hers. Their clothes, the moist skin, the heat that arcs between them does a wicked number on her insides. Her entire body moves into sensory overload. His tongue delves deeper, teasing hers, tangling with it in a sensual dance that leaves her molten and damn near singed to the core.

Her fingers skim over his side, up his rib cage. She clasps a fistful of now-limp white cotton, literally clutches at him, holding him to her. His hand, in turn, moves from her face and plows through her hair, his fingers burrowing deep in the strands.

Clara hears a whimper of need lodge in her throat. He deepens the kiss. Their bodies are pressed together tightly, yet she feels the insane desire to get closer to him. So much more so than she currently was. She wants more than this, really. The sounds and smells of the park fade into non-existence. All thoughts, save for the truly erotic ones, recedes into the far recesses of her mind. All that registers is the feel of his lips on hers, the tantalizing sweep of his tongue, the warmth and strength of his fingers as they remain entwined with hers, the heat and sensuality that engulfs her.

What should have been a friendly kiss, even a quick parting kiss, turns into something so sensuous; Clara loses all touch with reality. This is how she dreams of being kissed by him. This is the kind of passionate, erotic, fully engaging kiss that she has longed for. The Doctor delivers it with such skill, such intimacy; she wonders how she will live until their next kiss, their next touch. It is that fabulous. That… perfect.

As he gently pulls away, she knows she should bemoan the loss. Her entire being feels the connection being broken as he moves away from her. But it really hasn’t been broken. Even as he steps back, his fingers releasing hers, his hand slipping from her hair, she feels an innate bond. It was mystical, magical. Something beyond her comprehension. It was erotically powerful, yet in his kiss he layers everything he’s never spoken aloud to her.

“I don’t say good-bye, Clara." Doctor said. 

“Then I will see you soon.” She turns and starts to walk towards Coal Hill.

“Or later, definitely maybe later.” He calls after her.

She smiles through her tears as she leaves the park behind her. 

 

 

_If I would have known that you wanted me_  
The way I wanted you,  
Then maybe we wouldn’t be two worlds apart,  
But right here in each other’s arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to liltoomuch and rowofstars for their help and crucial thoughts. Thank you!


End file.
